


Child of Surprise

by Ruusverd



Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [4]
Category: Echoes of the Fall - Adrian Tchaikovsky, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bronze Age AU, Gen, Geralt meets Ciri, No dryads cause I can't think what the equivalent would be in this AU, shapeshifter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25748578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruusverd/pseuds/Ruusverd
Summary: Geralt tries to claim his Child of Surprise with no success. Ciri insists it really wouldn't be kidnapping if he took her with him anyway.Another installment of my Bronze Age AU. Series should probably be read in order.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863010
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Child of Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Zireael = Elder version of Cirilla. 
> 
> Nothing new about the worldbuilding I think, but if anything about the AU doesn't make sense let me know.

Geralt felt the unfriendly stares of the Xin’trae Lions following him as he walked out of their village. He could feel Calanthe’s eyes in particular burning into his spine as if she could kill him with the force of her glare.

He was glad he’d persuaded Jaskier and Plotka to wait for him well away from the Xin’trae territory. The situation was tense enough without needing to worry about Jaskier’s tendency to say the exact worst thing at the exact worst time escalating this into an actual battle. Plotka was a surprisingly useful ally in a fight despite the loss of her human self, but a single Horse wouldn’t be enough to help him defeat a whole warband of Lions. Much better to retreat gracefully and avoid fighting entirely.

He’d known Calanthe wouldn’t willingly give him the child, particularly after he’d learned of Pavetta’s death. He hadn’t been as surprised as he probably should have been when she’d offered him another child in her granddaughter’s place, but it didn’t make the attempt any less insulting. If the gods cared at all about the vows made before them, Geralt imagined they’d be more offended by such an obvious attempt to trick them than by an outright refusal to pay the debt.

He’d never been sure how seriously the gods took these sorts of things, but what he _did_ know was that humans took them very seriously indeed. Calanthe would lose standing before her tribe for what she’d done, particularly after the disaster of Pavetta’s marriage feast. Other tribes would be justified in refusing her any aid or alliance after a broken oath such as this if it became generally known. Hopefully, for her sake and the child’s, she would be able to keep her people quiet.

Geralt had even offered to stay and live among the Lions with the girl until she was old enough to decide her own path. He hadn’t quite expected Calanthe would refuse a solution that let her keep both her granddaughter and her honor but she had, emphatically. He supposed he was far from the first to underestimate Calanthe’s bullheaded stubbornness. So many years of wearing the Champion’s form had made her believe herself invincible.

Distracted by his thoughts, he’d walked quite some distance before he noticed the grass rustling behind him. He felt a surge of alarm, wondering if Calanthe had sent her hunters to quietly kill him and thus eliminate her problem. He spun around, reaching for his long knife, only to be faced by a small, copper-skinned Lion girl in a dirty frock staring back at him from the tall grass to the side of the path.

“What are you doing, following me?” he asked her with what he thought was admirable patience.

Her dark eyes flashed defiantly at him. “I’m coming with you!”

“You are not coming with me,” he informed the child firmly, “The last thing I need is to be accused of stealing a child from the Lion.”

“It’s not stealing! I’m Zireael, the child you were promised! I’m supposed to be a Wolf! One of Grandmother’s hunters told me so!”

Geralt rubbed his face and sighed. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. The child had nothing of Duny in her face from what he could remember of the man, but children of two different peoples often favored one parent strongly over the other. And what other child of the Lion would be so determined to follow a Wolf? “You can’t come with me, Lion cub. Your grandmother said no. You’re a member of her tribe, you have to do what she says, at least until you’re grown.”

“I’m not a Lion, I’m a Wolf!” The girl stomped her foot petulantly, “I was _promised_ to you! You _have_ to take me with you! If you don’t I’ll just follow you anyway!”

Geralt crouched to the child’s level, “You’re still a Lion’s cub, and you need to stay with your grandmother. When you’re older you can come with me if you want.”

She glared at him, the fire in her eyes reminding him of Calanthe, “I am a Wolf! I’m supposed to be a Wolf, and I’m _always_ going to belong to the Wolf! I will _never_ belong to the Lion! I know it, _I know it!”_

Geralt looked away and thought. He thought of what was like to have two souls inside him, one from each of his parents. The way it had felt to have two warring sets of instincts pulling him in different directions. How painful it had been when he’d been forced to choose the Wolf before he’d been ready to give up his mother’s legacy. He probably would have chosen the Wolf regardless, but he still wished he’d had a _choice._ He pushed the memories away and looked back at Ciri.

“I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong. You’re the only one who can say where your soul belongs, but I can’t take you with me,” he told the girl, holding up a hand to stop her instant protest, “I can’t. Not yet. Whether you belong to the Wolf or the Lion or something else entirely, right now Calanthe is your family. The Xin’trae tribe is your family,” he looked her in the eye, trying to convey how seriously he meant his words, “and if I take you now, it will burn that bridge behind you forever. You’re not too young to know your own soul, but you _are_ too young to decide to throw off your people forever. You don’t know yet what that would mean, to live without the support of a tribe.”

Zireael continued to look mulish.

Geralt sighed, then removed a necklace of small iron amulets from around his neck. Those amulets and his iron coat were the only belongings he had left that came from the Elder Sea tribe where he’d been raised and trained. So many links of the coat had been repaired or replaced in the years since then it was anyone’s guess how much was left of the original. He held out the necklace to her. “Pick one, Ziri,” he offered. His northern accent turned the nickname into something closer to ‘Ciri.’

She looked at him in surprise. He couldn’t tell if it was the offer or the nickname that surprised her. Perhaps it was both.

“You’re six years old,” he explained to her, “I’ll come back when you’re eight and ask Calanthe again. If she still refuses, I’ll come back every two years until you’re old enough to Step. If you still want to come with me at that point I’ll let you, no matter if she agrees or not, no matter what form you Step to. These amulets are very precious to me. I’m going to give you one as my pledge to come back. They’re small, so it should be easy for you to hide. Do you agree?”

“But I want to go with you now!” Ciri demanded, “I don’t want to wait years and years!”

“I know, but you can’t come with me now. It would cause nothing but trouble for both of us.”

“I don’t care!” Ciri stomped her foot again.

Geralt gave her a stern look, “You can go back voluntarily with one of these amulets and my sworn promise to come back every two years, or I can drag you back and leave you with no token or promise at all.”

“What if the Wolf can’t find me here?” Ciri asked, anger melting into distress, “When it’s time for my soul to come, what if it’s a Lion because there are only Lions here?”

“The gods aren’t so easily tricked as that, Ciri. But if you don’t like the form that comes to you, I have a friend who is a priestess of the Snake. She can help you find whatever form you want.”

“Even if the Lion already came?” Ciri chewed at her lip, studying the necklace Geralt was still holding out to her.

“Even if,” he assured her, “It’s painful, and you won’t ever be able to get the lion back once you cut it away, but it can be done if you’re sure it’s what you want.”

“And you _promise_ you’ll come back?”

“As long as I’m alive and free to direct my own actions, I swear I will return every two years until Calanthe agrees to let you come with me or you learn to Step, whichever comes first.”

Ciri watched his face for a moment, then pointed decisively at an amulet about as long as the last joint of Geralt’s thumb, with the outline of a wolf’s head imprinted on one side and a rune for protection on the other. “That one. I want that one.”

Geralt nodded and carefully removed the amulet from his necklace, attaching it instead to a thin leather cord he pulled from his pack. He tied the cord to a length Ciri could easily slide over her head and hide under her shift and cut off the excess. He waited until she had the necklace settled to her satisfaction, then stood and held out his hand. “Come on,” he said, trying to sound encouraging, “let’s get you back before Calanthe sets her warband on us.”

He didn’t dare approach the village gates with the child holding his hand, so when the village came in sight he Stepped to his wolf form and let Ciri go the rest of the way alone. He followed her,sneaking through the grass to keep her in sight until he saw her reach the gates. Once he was satisfied Ciri was safely back home, he turned north and set off to rejoin Jaskier and Plotka.

Even in his Stepped form, with the iron of his knife folded into his teeth and his iron coat toughening his skin, he imagined he could feel the absence of the tiny wolf amulet he was leaving behind.


End file.
